


When you're not dead, you're not dead

by captainandersmith



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: (and maybe Michael learns to love again shhhh), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically a YDYD au where Michael is left alone but Mysterious Stranger Matt turns up, Injury, M/M, Minor Violence, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainandersmith/pseuds/captainandersmith
Summary: He’d not even caught a glimpse of another person all these years, the situation was surreal. He was thrown off for a moment and he’d let this man in in his shock, but his wariness kicked back in. When the stranger turned, presumably to thank Michael, he was greeted with a jagged knife and a stony glare.“Get out.”***When Matt temporarily becomes Michael's pest, patient and housemate, Michael realises that he was bound to let him in- in more ways than one.





	When you're not dead, you're not dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rothecooldad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothecooldad/gifts).



> When the YDYD series finished, my good friend Rowan suggested that instead of living out his days alone, Michael would meet Matt. Here I am writing this for his birthday, so overall you definitely have him to thank for this <3 Happy Birthday bud! You deserve the world!
> 
> It is horrendously late and although I have a few excuses for that let's just say I suck and we'll leave it at that.  
> I'm also v sick so I apologise for the lack of proof reading.
> 
> Although the story is resolved in a way, I intend to add more chapters to this so if you have any suggestions/questions about how their lives continue let me know
> 
> DISCLAIMER: These are fictional representations of real people who have consented to being written about in this way. I respect both them and their real life relationships. This is only for fun!
> 
> (warning I guess?? Since this is based on YDYD the past mavinsay is due to death as it is in the series)

The carrots were coming in nicely and Michael knew it would soon be time to harvest them. Not that he was in any rush, he always had plenty of food. When he set up the crop fields during that first week on his own, he hadn’t realised that he’d used far more space than he needed until he’d finished laying them out. There was a perpetual emptiness to the fields, a barrenness that the towering corn stalks or cheerful carrot tops couldn’t diminish. 

Growing enough for nine people was a habit that he couldn’t shake. 

 

The sun was setting and Michael packed his tools into the chest outside his front door. He was greeted by the smell of baked potato as he entered the house. It was ready but Michael was dirty after a day of working outside and he decided to wash first. He didn’t bother to take it off the heat and it was slightly blackened when he returned to eat it. Michael didn’t mind though, he’d rather it was a bit burnt than being too cold.

 

Over the last couple of years not much had changed. Once Michael had built his new house and farm, he was living in maintenance mode. He’d done this for 564 days, each morning he carved a line into the headboard of his bed. Every 7 lines he carved one at the foot of the bed to keep track of the weeks, and every now and then he counted them, carving the total into the bedpost. The days that started that way were never good days.

 

The saving grace was that although his life was often repetitive, Michael was never idle. There were always seeds to be sown, holes in the roof to be fixed, water and meat supplies needing to be replenished. Michael was thankful for that, he wasn’t sure what the boredom would do to him. He always ensured that he was tired enough that sleep came easily and stole away the late hours his mind could otherwise use to reminisce. Mealtimes were the closest he came to being left completely alone with his thoughts. 

 

But one day he wasn’t alone. There was a frantic knocking at the door.

 

“Hey! Help! God please open the door, open the door!” 

 

The yelling was accompanied by rasping groans, and Michael’s body seemed to assess the situation before his brain did. His chair squealed and in a swift movement the door opened and closed again, with a stranger now in his house. 

 

Said stranger had rested his head on the door and was panting heavily, taking a few steps away when the zombies began to claw half-heartedly at the other side.  

 

Michael was in shock.

 

He’d not even caught a glimpse of another person all these years, the situation was surreal. He was thrown off for a moment and he’d let this man in in his shock, but his wariness kicked back in. When the stranger turned, presumably to thank Michael, he was greeted with a jagged knife and a stony glare.

 

“Get out.” 

 

“But I- you let me in… the zombies-”

 

“I said, get out,” Michael raised his voice unintentionally, “You can leave through the back door. Surely you can outrun them with those long legs of yours.”

 

As Michael gestured towards them with his knife he realised that the man was clutching one of his legs with shaking hands. His clothes were so ragged and dirty that he hadn’t noticed that one trouser leg was particularly torn up. And there was blood, lots of it.

 

The man lifted his hands slightly and winced, “I’m… not so sure.. about…” he crumpled to the floor, letting out only a slight groan before passing out.

 

Michael approached the unconscious man cautiously and took the opportunity to size him up. His hair was shaggy and matted, it was hard to tell by what. Any visible skin was almost as dirty as his clothing and marred by minor scrapes and bruises. Michael’s eyes were drawn to a pretty gnarly looking wound on his leg, one that wasn’t fresh but had clearly reopened in the chase that had occured. He could just drag him out of the door, but then Michael would be directly responsible for his death. Besides, he didn’t seem like he was trying to trick Michael.

 

Michael groaned and began to lift him onto the couch, muttering to himself about the stains that would surely be left. With his hands on the man’s frame, Michael found him to be scrawnier than he realised and without any belongings at all.  Where had this man come from and how had he survived this long? Michael went looking for food and resources fairly regularly and had yet to spot a single indication of human life, yet this man had arrived on his doorstep. He took the stranger’s glasses off and set them next to his own discarded dinner. He would stitch the guy up before he came round.

 

***

“Jesus,  _ fuck _ .”

 

The man had regained consciousness and attempted to sit up, not getting very far. He was now clutching his head rather than his injured leg.

 

“You’ve got a fever,” Michael explained, throwing a damp cloth from across the room, “you can stay until you’re better and then you’re out.”

 

“Wow dude, nice to meet you, I’m Matt Bragg. Has anyone ever told you how welcoming you are?” Matt’s voice was weak and he struggled to arrange the cloth on his forehead.

 

“Hi Matt. I’m Michael and this is my house, which you will be leaving once I think you can get more than three steps out of it before collapsing.”

 

Michael watched Matt fidget with the cloth for a while before his impatience got the better of him. He took it from Matt’s hands wordlessly and placed it on his forehead.

 

Matt gave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, hey uhhh… I can’t see real good right now. Is that the fever?” 

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Michael snorted, “Your glasses dumbass.”

 

He fetched them from the table and placed them on Matt’s face, trying not to poke him in the eye in the process, “Better?”

 

Matt blinked a few times then looked right up at Michael a little surprisedly, “Oh, hi there.” He still looked out of it but managed a cute little smile.

 

Wait, cute?

 

“Right well, I’ve got work to do,” Michael stood and made his way to the front door, “Get some rest.” 

 

***

 

Michael checked on Matt every couple of  hours and he was sleeping soundly each time. He woke him up to offer him food and although he was famished, Matt had fallen asleep before finishing his plate. The first time he woke up for more than twenty minutes was the next afternoon. The fever had broken, the infection in his leg appeared to be subsiding, and he was actually lucid enough to recognise that Michael had stitched him up, in a good way. 

 

“I'm alive,” Matt sounded incredulous and his voice was hoarse.

 

Michael brought him a flask of water and Matt attempted to drink. His hands fumbled and shook as he lifted it to his mouth and Michael helped to support it, feeling heat rise to his face as he cupped Matt's hand.

 

“Well you won't be for much longer if we don't change those bandages and get your cuts seen to.”

 

Michael hated how motherly he sounded and tried to make up for it by being as brisk as he could without hurting the guy. When he lifted Matt's shirt to apply alcohol to his scrapes, his patient blushed and shuffled uncomfortably.

 

The situation didn't embarrass Michael at all. Living with seven other dudes meant he'd seen plenty of guys in various states of undress, it was far less interesting than it sounded. They were forever having to patch each other up after a hard day's hunting, or just a moment of stupidity.

 

He flinched at the thought of his dead family and pressed too hard on Matt's chest.

 

He hissed a little in pain, “Sorry.”

 

“Why are  _ you  _ apologising?” Michael muttered.

 

Matt was taken aback by this response, he didn't seem to realise that he had apologised. He pulled together a comeback as fast as possible.

 

“Well it didn't seem like  _ you _ were going to.”

 

Michael smirked despite himself, “We have a strict no-smart-ass policy, so keep your mouth shut or you're out.”

 

Matt wasn't fazed by the threat, “I thought you didn't want to deal with a corpse on your doorstep?”

 

Michael rolled his eyes and began to tidy his first aid supplies away, “the idea is starting to sound a lot more appealing than the alternative.”

 

***

 

Over the next couple of days Matt got used to making short trips to the bathroom or the kitchen table and could dress himself without Michael’s help (thankfully). Michael was glad to see that he didn’t have a dead man on his hands, but the downside was that conscious Matt was a whole lot more talkative. Michael avoided most conversation by staying outside more and going to bed earlier. Although Matt complained about how bored he was frequently, it only seemed to make him more enthusiastic when it came to the times they did interact. Despite Michael’s unresponsiveness, the dude couldn’t be disheartened and persistently tried to get through to him.

 

“Hey Michael? Thanks for uh, taking care of me dude.”

 

Michael only hummed in response and Matt rolled his eyes.

 

“What will it take for you to have a proper conversation with me? Don't you even want to know where I came from?”

 

Michael only raised his eyebrows at Matt, but the corners of his mouth twitched, a movement Matt spotted before Michael could turn back to the stew he was cooking. 

 

Matt’s voice took a lighter, teasing tone, “Come on, I’ll repay you by making your farm self harvesting? Once I’m running at full capacity and you get me a bunch of redstone...”

 

“You can do that with redstone?” Michael was suspicious. He’d only ever used redstone for torches.

 

“Yes, well in theory at least. In my village everyone thought redstone was some kind of witchcraft so I uh, had to practice in secret and-”

 

“So you’re telling me that for them, automatic doors were basically the equivalent of sucking off the devil?”

 

Matt burst into hearty laughter which he half-stifled with a hand over his mouth, causing it to subside into giggles. Michael couldn’t help but join in, a long forgotten warm feeling in his gut.

 

“I guess so Michael, I guess so. For a minute I was worried that you thought the same since you don’t have booby traps or switches or anything like that,”

 

“Nah I'm just no good with redstone, I always left that to Ryan and Gav-” Michael cut himself off abruptly.

 

Having someone else’s presence was so intoxicating that he'd forgotten himself, but he wouldn't let himself get used to it. He made his escape, muttering something about crops as he went and ignoring Matt's protests.

 

***

 

A bystander would have noticed that Michael’s hoeing technique was far more aggressive today than it needed to be. He grunted with each push into the dirt, not to help him along but as a result of the unnecessary exertion. Stupid Matt. If only he was well enough to leave already. If only he’d never come at all. 

 

He felt like he'd been tricked into bringing  _ them _ up. He thought about all of them every day but he'd never had to speak about them until now. It was too much. Hot tears brimmed in his eyes and Michael swiped at them.

 

As his vision cleared he was pushed face down into the dirt. His hoe flew from his hands as he fell and he rolled over just as a giant spider pounced onto his chest. He managed to kick it off momentarily and reached for his hoe. He grabbed it just in time to fend off another attack with the handle.

 

Michael cursed his stupidity. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the hissing until it was too late. Caught off guard, he wasn't in the best position to fight back and the spider had the upper hand. A fucking spider. This was how he was going to die.

 

Faint shouting reached his ears and Michael suddenly thought of Matt. How he might not get better without his help. Or that he would, and would find Michael's remains in a couple of days.  Michael was instinctively reciting every curse word that came to mind (in his head or out loud, he couldn't tell), when the spider went limp and keeled over, a diamond sword impaling it's body.

 

The spider fell to reveal Matt, panting heavily. Panic gave way to relief in his expression as he saw that Michael was unharmed. He went to retrieve the sword and his leg gave way, bringing him to his knees. Michael took the opportunity to beat Matt to it and as Matt attempted to stand again he found himself looking down the blade of the diamond sword.

 

“What, ah” he winced but seemed annoyed rather than threatened, “What is it with you and pointing sharp things at me?”

 

“Where did you get this?” Michael growled. Matt had no right to touch this sword,  _ no right. _

 

Matt squinted at him, “ It was by your front door. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I fucking hobbled out here and saved your _ goddamn life _ with that sword.” He was shouting by the end of his sentence and stopped to catch his breath.

 

Michael held the sword in both hands, as a younger Michael had in his memory when Gavin gave it to him.

 

_ They’d fought earlier in the day and when Michael saw Gavin approaching, he knew to expect an apology, but not a present. _

 

_ “You are complete Mogar.” Gavin sheepishly handed Michael a diamond sword. _

 

_ It was beautiful. Other people might have been surprised by the level of craftsmanship and detail that Gavin had pulled off, but not Michael. He knew Gavin better than that. _

 

_ “Boi…” _

 

_ “Hopefully this makes us friends again.” Gavin was already smiling coyly and fiddling with Michael’s shirt. _

 

_ “Gavin, we might squabble but we’re always friends.” _

 

_ Gavin leaned over and kissed his cheek, practically skipping out of the door. _

 

_ “Love you, lovely Michael!” _

 

Michael had been vaguely aware of Matt trying to get his attention but he hadn’t wanted to let go of the memory just yet. When he finally looked over to where Matt was still struggling to stand, he looked worried and not for himself. It was a blow that almost struck harder than the spider had.

 

“Michael? What’s wrong?”

 

“I uh,” Michael wasn’t aware that his eyes were brimming with tears until he felt the lump in his throat, “My husband made that sword for me.”

 

“You had a husband?”

 

Michael laughed, it reminded him of a joke that Lindsay used to make.

 

_ Wild cats had gotten into the temporary food storage  _ again.  _ Since it was only the three of them on this extended hunting trip, Michael was fairly sure who was to blame and and an absent Gavin was getting the full force of his muttered insults as he cleared up the mess. _

 

_ “Ooh someone’s crabby today.” Lindsay remarked, chuckling as she began to help. _

 

_ “My damn husband forgot to lock the fucking chest again.”  _

 

_ Lindsay gasped and clutched at her heart theatrically, “What? You have a husband?” _

 

_ Michael just rolled his eyes and Lindsay continued, “Whatever, whoop-di-fuckin-do! I have  _ two  _ husbands and you don’t see  _ me  _ bragging about it.”  _

 

_ “Well we’ll both be short of a husband if I ever get my hands on Gavin.” _

 

_ “...Hot.” _

 

Despite himself, Michael smiled at the thought of Lindsay and Gavin, “Yeah, I had a wife too.”

 

Michael saw that the use of past tense was not lost on Matt, who had lowered his gaze, “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

 

“I’m not in the habit of trusting strangers with personal information.”

 

“But if you don’t trust someone, won’t they stay a stranger?” Matt looked up at Michael, “Come on man, I just saved your life. Damn near killed myself doing it too.” He gestured to his position on the ground, “You owe it to both of us to trust me a little.”

 

Michael was a suspicious person, and the events of the last few years had only amplified that tenfold. Although it was a flaw in many situations, he knew it meant that what he should have been trusting all along was his instincts about Matt. From the moment he had fainted in his front room, to the impassioned speech he’d just given, there had been no trace of deception in Matt’s actions or words.

 

It had seemed against the odds that the next person to show up in Michael’s life would be honest, intelligent, charming, and easy on the eyes if he had to admit it. 

 

But he guessed the universe owed him this.

 

“I don’t know man, how do I know this isn’t all part of your secret agenda?” Michael’s words were softly teasing and his arm outstretched to help Matt to his feet. Matt took it, grinning.

 

“You caught me. I only saved you because you hadn’t finished making dinner yet. Once I can cook for myself, you better watch your back.”

 

Matt failed to stay upright and Michael ducked under his arm to carry him back to the house. Matt blushed as Michael put an arm around his waist and Michael’s cheeks responded in kind.

 

“Bring it on Bragg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading  
> hmu @braggvin on tumblr 
> 
> There will be at least one more chapter and it will contain Backstory.


End file.
